shaken but not stirred in the evening sun.
Next day I sat and chatted with Reg, the
86-year-old owner of my old boat, and his
charming daughter Rona. Reg’s place
overlooks the harbour entrance and I
know he saw me run aground as I left
bound for Plymouth early next day.
“You’re on the wrong side skipper,”
shouted the trawler captain loud enough for
all to hear, probably condemning me to the
front page of that day’s Teignmouth Post.
Plymouth was a new destination for me
and the fierce eddies and stiff cross-
current outside the Mayflower marina took
me by surprise; I used to think bow
thrusters were for wimps, but not
anymore. Anyway, it was good to meet up
with my Royal Marine nephew, who I
always enjoy seeing, not least because he
is too polite to tell me he’s heard that story
of mine before. Many times.
I left in a blustery early dawn down a
diamond road, with a reefed Yankee
headed for Land’s End and the Celtic Sea.J
ohn, she’s got your name on it!’
shouted Pete Goss as I was about
to leave Arklow for Guernsey. He
was pointing to Pippin, his Francis
34 Pilothouse cutter, while crushing my
hand in his paw. He was right; 18 months
later I was mid-Channel in Pippin, heading
from Guernsey to Teignmouth to visit the
new owner of my old boat. I’d owned
Pippin just six weeks, and hardly knew
her, but as I am wont to say – there’s
never is a best time to go, so just go.
It was a surprisingly rough July day in
the Channel but I arrived without drama,John Willis gets to grips with a new boat, 30-knot winds and colourful
characters on his voyage from Guernsey to Fastnet Rock via Plymouth
Celtic Sea odyssey
An ex soldier,
businessman and
school bursar,
John Willis is a
Guernseyman who
knew from the age
of four he was
boat obsessed.
Ownership began
with a Drascombe Drifter and his
Sadler 290 came along in 2007. Now
retired, he is the proud custodian of
Pippin, a Frances 34 Pilothouse.Gannets dive-bombed a shoal from above
while dolphins attacked from below – who
would be a mackerel! Then the wind
backed turning progress west into a
windward battle.
At 0300 I was north of the Longships, 21
hours out and in darkness when the
propeller chopped a metre off a trailing
sheet. An errant topping lift headed for the
clouds, the autopilot went AWOL and the
engine wouldn’t start. I was knackered
and in a spot of bother, but I wasn’t dying
and the boat wasn’t sinking. Time for Plan
B – or was it C? And so began a slow
retreat back round Land’s End – scene of
so much effort – and round to friendly little
Penzance where the harbour launch
brought Pippin alongside in laid back
style. Penrith Engineering Works were too
busy to assist, so it was up to me. I
retrieved the topping lift, freed the trailing
sheet, bled the autopilot’s hydraulics and
even got the engine start switch to work- most times.
‘I was knackered and in a spot of bother, but I
wasn’t dying and the boat wasn’t sinking’
CRUISING
ABOUT AUTHOR
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